User blog:Squibstress/Epithalamium - Chapter 12
Title: Epithalamium Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; teacher-student relationship (of-age); language, violence Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter 12 “Such magic is a great gift, to be sure, but if directed the wrong way, it can be disastrous, not only for you, but for others.” “Now that the snow has melted, I thought we could take today’s lesson outside,” Professor Dumbledore said. “Outside?” Minerva asked. “Yes. The day is rather warm for March, and it provides a good opportunity to move to the next phase in your training.” “Really? What is it?” “I think we’ll wait and discuss it when we get to the spot I have in mind,” he said, smiling at her enthusiasm. “I think you will need a slightly warmer cloak, however. Allow me?” he asked, brandishing his wand. “Be my guest.” He pointed his wand at her, saying, “''Pallium Profundus.” Her cloak grew heavier and warmer. He donned his own thick cloak, and they set out down the path past Groundskeeper Ogg’s hut. “Where are we going, Professor?” she asked. They had an unspoken agreement that during her lessons, even they believed if no one were around to overhear, she would address him thus. “There is a spot just inside the Forbidden Forest that I think will suit our purposes quite nicely.” “But, isn’t it dangerous?” “Not when you’re with me.” A few minutes after entering the forest proper, they came to a small clearing. “Ah, this was the spot I had in mind,” he said. Minerva looked at him expectantly. “Now, my dear, I will ask you to get down on your hands and knees.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he said, “I realise the ground is a bit wet, but we can ''Scourgify your robes afterwards. I need you to feel the forest floor under your hands for this exercise.” She did as he asked and waited for his next instructions. “First, I would like you to clear your mind as you have been doing. When you have done that, I ask you simply to feel. Allow your senses to experience the forest—all your senses: sight, sound, smell, touch—even taste, if you are moved to it. I will tell you when to stop. You may begin whenever you are ready,” he told her. Minerva began the exercise to clear her mind. Closing her eyes, she focused on the sound of her own respiration, eventually tuning it out. She began her sensual exploration of the forest with the palms of her hands, feeling the wetness and the cold, and the rough texture of the pine needles against her skin. She flexed her fingers, enjoying the feel of the moist soil oozing thickly between them, going up under her fingernails. Albus watched, fascinated, as she did this for several minutes. She was impelled to bury her nose in the soil, feeling its grainy dampness with the sensitive organ, then drawing back slightly to inhale its loamy scent. There were other odours there too, feral and meaty, that she could not identify. She realised she was allowing her conscious brain to intrude on the sensory experience, and she quickly refocused on the odour itself without thinking about it. She allowed the layers of scent to permeate her olfactory organs, and a primitive portion of her brain recognised one of the smells as blood. It raised in her a strange yearning. Her tongue flicked out from between her lips and barely contacted the small mound of soil her grasping fingers had created. The taste was metallic with a hint of sweetness. She kept her tongue extended, tasting the intriguing scents that teased and tantalised on the breeze. When she finally retracted it, she could feel the grit on her lips. She began to allow sounds to penetrate her focus: birds twittering a few yards off, their shrill voices rising and falling according to their proximity, and she felt a desire to move toward the noise. Just as she was about to sprint off, she was stopped by another sound, this one low and threatening, that seemed to arise from beneath the earth. She cocked her head, listening, crouching low to the ground. At last, she opened her eyes and was nearly blinded by the shocking brightness. She squeezed them shut and waited a few moments before opening them again. Colours and shapes danced in front of her, but they were hazy, and the images overlapped. She blinked several times, then the visual disturbance was gone. “Minerva ...” She looked up and saw Professor Dumbledore peering at her with an expression of surprise on his face. She immediately felt self-conscious. What had she done while in her reverie? “What’s the matter, Professor?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?” “Not at all, my dear,” he answered, helping her to stand. “Tell me, what happened just now, when you opened your eyes?” “Well, at first it was painful—too bright, I think. Then my vision was distorted; I couldn’t make out details, it was all colours and shapes and light. Then I blinked, I think, and it was gone. Please, can you tell me what happened?” “Your eyes, Minerva. For a few seconds, they seemed to change,” he answered, looking at her intently. “Really? What did they look like?” “I can’t be entirely sure, as it was so brief, but they seemed to change shape, and the pupils were no longer round; they were more elongated.” “What do you think it means?” “I think, my dear, that you have just given the first indication of what your Animagus form might be,” he said, smiling at her, which put her more at ease. “What do you think it was?” she asked, excited now. “Well, there are several classes of animals that have eyes like that: there are reptiles, amphibians, certain mammals ...” “Do you think it was a reptile?” She was taken aback. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t like the idea of being a snake or a crocodile. “It is hard to say. We won’t know until the transformation is more complete.” “So you think I really was starting to transform?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Yes, and it is nothing short of astonishing. I would not have expected something like this to happen until you had been training for at least a year. You really are a most extraordinary witch.” She beamed at his assessment. “Thank you for saying so, Professor.” “Now I’d like you to do the inventory of systems, please.” “Of course.” She closed her eyes and ran through each of her bodily systems, asking herself if anything felt at all unusual; nothing did. “Everything seems fine, Professor,” she said. “Very good. Nevertheless, I would like you to see Madam Soranus to have her run a complete diagnostic on you,” he said. When Minerva started to protest, he cut her off: “No arguments.” She sighed, then asked hopefully, “Should we try it again?” “I think that will be enough for today, my dear. Among other things, I’m not sure my aging heart could take another go.” She rolled her eyes at him. “But our time can’t be up yet.” “No. I’ll take you to the infirmary, then you can come see me in my office. I don’t have any meetings this afternoon, so we will have more time to discuss your progress.” She smiled to herself and said, “All right. Lead the way, Professor.” When they got to the infirmary, Professor Dumbledore said to the mediwitch, “Alfidia, I’d like you to run a general diagnostic on Miss McGonagall, if you would.” When the matron frowned, he added, “I believe she is perfectly well, but we have been working on some advanced Transfiguration spellwork that involved her participation, and I would like to reassure myself that it has had no deleterious effects.” “Very well, Professor Dumbledore,” answered the matron. “Good. I leave you in excellent hands, Miss McGonagall,” he said to Minerva before leaving. “Come along, girl,” said Madam Soranus sharply. The diagnostics took half an hour, with the matron muttering under her breath about “dangerous spells” and “professors who ought to know better” the whole time. When she finished, she said, “All right, Miss McGonagall. You seem healthy enough to me. Get along with you, now.” Minerva didn’t need any urging. She was on her feet and halfway out the door almost before the matron finished speaking, tossing a “Thank you, Madam Soranus,” over her shoulder as she went. Madam Soranus stood shaking her head. “Young girls these days. Don’t know their proper place, they don’t. Advanced spellwork, indeed!” Minerva found Albus sitting behind his desk leafing through a large volume on Animagi through the ages. “Ah, Minerva. Sit down, my dear. I was just looking though this to see if I could find any other instances of precocious transformation. So far, I’ve only come across a young wizard in the seventeenth century who managed to sprout a full peacock’s tail at the age of fifteen. Of course, the contemporaneous reports may not be entirely reliable,” he said. “So, did you receive a clean bill of health from Madam Soranus?” “Yes, a grudging one, though. She doesn’t like me much.” “Ah, well, Madam Soranus is somewhat old-fashioned in her views about what proper witches should and should not study. I’m afraid she’s of the opinion that young ladies of good breeding should not bother themselves with N.E.W.T.s and such.” “And am I a ‘young lady of good breeding’?” Minerva asked with a wry smile. “Impeccable breeding, I should say, if what I have heard of your father is accurate.” “He would disagree heartily with Madam Soranus about girls and their education.” “Indeed. You are proof enough of that. He educated you himself, I believe?” “Yes. With help from my grandmother,” Minerva said, not entirely anxious to discuss her family with Albus at the moment. He noticed her discomfort and changed the subject. “What happened this afternoon was nothing short of astonishing. I hope you realise that.” “Yes, if you say so.” “It confirms for me something I have suspected—well, more than suspected—since you first came to Hogwarts,” he said, and she was slightly unnerved by his serious tone. “And what is that?” “That you are possessed of an incredibly powerful magic. Some of the most powerful I have ever sensed.” His statement took her breath away. She knew she was powerful, yes—not only had she been told so by others, but she sensed it herself—but to hear Albus Dumbledore say what he had ... it was like someone had doused her in warm water. “Do you really think so?” she whispered. “Yes. What you have goes beyond your obvious talent and intelligence. I doubt there is any other way you could have managed even the partial transformation you did today without the foundation of an extremely powerful magical core. You are talented at Transfiguration, of course, but you are nowhere near experienced enough to have made that happen through skill alone.” He wasn’t certain how to read her face. What he saw there was not precisely happiness, nor fear, nor any other easily identifiable emotion. “You will need to be careful with it, my dear. Such magic is a great gift, to be sure, but if directed the wrong way, it can be disastrous, not only for you, but for others. I ... I have had some experience of this,” he said. “What do you mean?” “I don’t wish to go into the details now, but let’s just say that I hope you will take a different path to fully inhabiting your power than I did. I would be honoured if you would allow me to help you ... to guide you.” “The honour would be mine, Professor. There’s no one I would trust more.” He smiled at her. A few moments later, he said, “You must be tired.” “A little,” she confessed. “But I could be persuaded to have a cup of tea, if you’d like.” “I would like, very much. In my private quarters, perhaps?” “Yes, that would be very nice.” They adjourned to Albus’s sitting room, and he made the tea while she sat on the sofa, eyes closed. Here you are, my sweet,” said Albus, handing her a cup. “Just a bit of milk, does that suit?” “It does, thank you.” As they sipped their tea, Minerva couldn’t conceal a yawn. “You are tired, my dear,” said Albus. “Today was an intense experience for you.” “Yes,” she said. “It was quite intense, as you put it. Everything was so ... heightened ... sounds, smells, textures. It was like adding another dimension to my senses.” After a moment, she added, “Thank you, Albus.” “For what?” “For making this possible for me. Without your help, I would have no chance of becoming an Animagus.” “Maybe or maybe not,” he said. “In any event, it is my pleasure. I would like to see you reach your full potential.” She set her cup down and slid closer to him. “I’d like to explore a few other ways to give you pleasure ... right now, if you’re game,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. “I thought you were tired.” The force of his protest was weakened by the appearance of a smile on his lips. “Not so very tired, I find,” she answered, kissing him on the mouth. They sat kissing for a few minutes, then he stood suddenly, saying, “I need to close off the Floo.” He pointed his wand at the fireplace, which flared and died out. “I nearly forgot,” he said, his brow furrowing. “No harm done, though,” Minerva said. “I’ll try to remind you when I come to you.” “I normally do it before you arrive. I just didn’t expect this today.” She hesitated to ask her next question, but curiosity got the better of her. “Wouldn’t it look odd if someone tried to Floo you and your fireplace was closed off?” “Not necessarily. Except for the Headmaster and me, most of the staff close their Floos at night, and Armando and I do it at other times we don’t wish to be disturbed. Of course, the Headmaster and I can each access any room in the castle in the event of an emergency, but Armando has never made use of that privilege to come to my quarters unannounced.” When he saw concern on her face, he added, “If there were an emergency and he found my Floo closed, he would likely send a house-elf to fetch me. They can Apparate into any room in the castle if ordered to, so it would be faster than barging up here himself.” “That’s good to know,” said Minerva, putting her arms around him again. “Nevertheless, I think moving to the bedroom might be wise.” When they got there, he surprised her by immediately Banishing their clothes. He usually enjoyed watching her undress or undressing her himself. “Couldn’t wait,” he murmured, burying his face between her breasts. They stood there, kissing, nuzzling, sucking and stroking one another for a few minutes, then he said, “I think you ought to get off your feet, my dear,” and she was surprised again when she was magically lifted off her feet and deposited in the middle of the bed. “Albus! What’s got into you?” she asked in mock outrage. “I’m just trying to spare your energy, my sweet,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Now, just lie back, close your eyes, and let me do all the work, hmm?” She followed his directive and felt him kissing her neck and running his fingers over her breasts. His lips soon replaced his hands, which moved down to stroke the insides of her thighs, coaxing them to fall wider apart. After kissing and suckling her nipples until they stood in hard, pebbled peaks, he traced a lazy path down her belly with his tongue, then began to suck and gently nip at her inner thighs, first one, then the other, his hands stroking up and down the outsides. When he kissed her sex, her eyes snapped open, and she looked down at his auburn head. As he pushed her knees wider apart, she exclaimed, “I .... you ... oh!” before his tongue robbed her of all speech. Her head fell back onto the pillow, and she allowed herself to be swept away by the delicious sensations. Once she was writhing with pleasure, her legs trembling around his head, he withdrew, moved up over her, and slid his cock into her, just in time to feel her pulse around him, moaning, “Oh, gods! Oh… oh!” Only after the heat and violence of her orgasm had passed did he begin to move and take his own pleasure in her body. She looked at his face as he made love to her, and she recognized how much she enjoyed watching him, loved seeing him lose all control, knowing she was the cause of it. “Oh, gods … oh, Minerva … so beautiful … so tight … ah!” he cried as he emptied himself inside her. When he was completely spent, his upper body melted down to press against hers. She nuzzled his ear and kissed his neck, revelling in the sensation of his penis still lodged inside her and his weight pinning her to the mattress. After his breathing had slowed, he lifted his head and kissed her deeply. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue, finding the vaguely sweet, musky flavour strange but arousing. He rolled off her. She shifted over to rest her head on his shoulder, her hand making lazy circles over his chest. “Did you enjoy that, my love?” he asked. “I’m surprised you need to ask. It was ... well, let’s just say that words fail me.” He laughed. “Well, that must be a first.” In truth, she was a bit embarrassed by the fact that she had never quite realised that he might want to put his mouth there. She wondered if it was something most people did or if it was unusual. Then she decided she didn’t care. He seemed to enjoy it, and Merlin knew she had. She thought about what it might be like to take his penis in her mouth; she had heard other girls in her dormitory talk about it in hushed tones, muffling squeals of disgust as one of them described something she had seen in a dirty book. The idea intrigued Minerva, though. If what he had done to her felt so incredible, did that mean he would feel equally wonderful if she did the same to him? She thought perhaps the next time they were together, she might try to find out. Albus was utterly content in that moment. He loved a beautiful, amazing witch who, against all rational consideration, loved him, too, and what’s more, seemed to want him as much as he wanted her. It had been years since he had been with a woman, and in his last real relationship, sex had been something of an afterthought. His lady friend had been willing, but only that, and it had eventually begun to feel as if he were importuning her with each embrace. He wondered if Minerva’s enthusiasm was a product of her youth and if it would wane with time. He had never been with a witch so young before, he thought with a small frisson of shame. They dozed together for an hour. When he awoke, the sun was just setting. He kissed Minerva’s lips gently to wake her. “''Mmm'',” she moaned, opening her eyes to gaze at him. “I’m afraid it’s time to go, my love. Dinner is in half an hour,” he told her. “Oh. Can’t we skip it? This is so lovely.” “I agree, but you know we can’t.” “I know,” she sighed. He got up, saying, “I’ll shower, then you can, and we can leave via my office. Just in case anyone saw us go in together.” She waited a few minutes after he disappeared into the bathroom, then got up and put her ear close to the door. She heard the shower running. She opened the door and slipped inside. “Minerva?” Albus called from the shower. She opened the shower door, saying, “I thought you could use some company. Besides, it will be faster this way.” She stepped inside. “I don’t know about faster,” he said, as she pressed her body against his soapy one. “But the company is certainly stimulating.” “It certainly is.” The shower took rather longer than either of them expected, and they emerged from Albus’s office looking flushed but well scrubbed, and headed off to the Great Hall for dinner as professor and model student once again. ← Back to Chapter 11 On to Chapter 13→ Category:Chapters of Epithalamium